Cracked Kneecaps and Busted Radiators

So, on Wednesday night, Scott decided that he wanted to go swim a few laps at the pool. Now that we have our pool passes and all. Scott is the type of person that is going to make damn sure that we use that pool enough to justify the $120 membership fee. He has divided the total by the cost per person and started a list on our white board to record the days that we go, so that we can eventually say to each other – see it was worth it – and here is the proof.

Back up several hours. Earlier in the day, we learned that Scott's mom cracked her kneecap on his sister's neighbor's stone patio stairs. This is as horrible as it sounds. Poor Gigi, she is going to be laid up for quite some time, and Scott will have to help out, which is fine. We'll make it work. Day one of making it work – Scott's sister will take Gigi to the doctor, we will watch her 3 kids. So, rather than just our 3 kids to come home too, I come home to six kids. Everyone is in the backyard, they are playing with water balloons and everyone is having a blast. I go to pick up some pizzas, we eat dinner. Then, Luke arrives to pick up the kids. We spend the next hour or so picking up the mess and restoring order. I was so sad when I realized that "order" in our house now looks like this:



Can you find the random shoe in the picture?

Okay – so now, Scott wants to go to the pool, so off he goes. I feed Leah, get her to bed, continue the pick up process. He returns shortly after leaving and says he didn't want to go in because all the teenaged lifeguards were already cleaning up and he didn't want to make them work or piss them off. And since I remember being a teenager I kind of understand the fear. Teenagers are scary.

We go to bed and the next day I get up to go to work. Normal morning, get the kids ready, get dressed, I've taken to letting my hair dry naturally to save a few minutes. I'm on my way.

About 10 minutes into my drive I notice the car is not driving so well. I look down, the check engine light is on, along with an exclamation point in a triangle and the letters VSA in the lower left corner – which I can only imagine to mean VERY SERIOUS, ALERT!! The car starts shaking, sputtering, it is not good. I pull in to the next stop, which is a car wash. I'm on the phone with Scott. What should I do? I'm a damsel in distress, you must meet me here immediately! His response – a very suspicious – I may have had something to do with this.

Me: Please explain

Scott: Well last night someone parked their car behind mine, and I might have backed into it. But there wasn't really any damage so I just popped the dented part of the bumper back out.

Me: Grrrrrrrrr

Scott tells me to move the car across the street, because the car wash is not a good place for it. I get it started, barely, and get it across the street and then right in the middle of the lot, my power steering goes out, all the lights on the dash come on and the car dies, dead. Won't start, won't even turn over.

Okay – so we call the insurance company, file the claim, they send a tow truck, I call my grandma to ask to borrow her car. We get back home around 10:30. I have the car, and technically, I could go to work, but that was very stressful and Scott is very convincing when he says – let's just take the day off. Want to go get a pizza and then go to the pool? I can be convinced to do almost anything when there is pizza involved, so I caved. We went to Kaisers for an appetizer, then, headed to the pool (mark the spreadsheet). He and I swam, tanned, went down the water slides, and had a blast. Then after two hours we went back to Kaisers for pizza and beer. Then home around 3:45. We were burnt to a crisp. What started out as a tragic day, ended up being really fun. Today we find out about my car. I am thinking the news will probably be really bad. But, we'll see.